


The Will of Barbarossa.

by shimere277



Category: Drake's Venture (1980)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Preincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimere277/pseuds/shimere277
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bold, impetuous privateer loves a refined, cultured courtier. Say, this sounds familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Will of Barbarossa.

**Author's Note:**

> One more attempt to explain what Doughtie did to deserve his karma...

            Kheir ed-Din had a total of six wives.  There was Aicha, the mother of Hassan, his heir.  There was another Moor, and a Bosnian woman, both of whom died in childbirth so long ago he had forgotten their names.  But his favorites were the Italian ladies he carried off – Aura, and Beatrice of Orea, but best of all Maria, the daughter of the governor of Beggio, whose parents he liberated from slavery as a favor to her.  
            None of them – nor the concubines, of whose number he had lost count – could ever replace the loss of his brother, Aroudj.  
            Aroudj, fearless – some would say foolhardy; resolute – some would say bullheaded; passionate in both love and hate – he would never forgive the Spaniards for the loss of his arm – Aroudj of the fiery eyes and still more fiery hair which earned him the name amongst Christians by which he was so feared: "red beard," Barbarossa.  
            It was the name by which Kheir ed-Din was still feared.  He could, even now, remember the moment he stepped onto the deck of his flagship, his hair and beard dyed with henna.  The men went silent for an instant and then screamed with exhilaration until their throats were raw.  They understood the message – the legend would live.  Vengeance would be theirs.  Kheir ed-Din had kept that coloration since that day – the day after his brother's death, over a quarter of a century ago.  
            He became richer than any man could dream.  He was feared and powerful, commanding a fleet of over 150 ships, his name synonymous with terror.  The Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, who depended upon him economically, made him governor general of Algeria.  His victories extended far beyond his personal advantage, for he had liberated 70,000 Moors from lives of desperate servitude in Spain.  He spoke six languages – his capital was a cosmopolitan metropolis offering the finest in luxuries and culture.  
            He was sick of it all.  He had lived for eighty-five years, far too long, by his reckoning.  He had fought well; he was ready to make his peace.  "As Allah wills," he said, drifting in and out of dream.  
            It was in such a dream that his brother came back to him.

            They were young men then, and although they had yet to know the power and wealth they would know in later days, they felt invincible.  Aroudj was already well-known, well-loved or well-feared, depending on which side of his cutlass you were on.  Kheir ed-Din, at seventeen, was the baby of the family – even his two sisters were older.  There were also two other brothers, but it was Kheir that Aroudj wanted by his side in war and in peace.  And it promised to be a war to remember – the liberation of Algiers from a crushing Spanish blockade.  
            Kheir ed-Din's sweetheart waved goodbye to him from the docks of Constantinople.  Aroudj frowned, and his brother thought for a moment he was condemning the forward ways of the pretty Grecian girl – so different from the Turkish maids, who hid themselves behind veils if they were allowed to be seen at all.  But the brothers were of Greek blood also, even if their father had converted to Islam upon the invasion of the Turks.  Kheir somehow couldn't bring himself to worry too much about these cultural differences – were they not all created by the same God?  His brother's loathing of the Spaniards puzzled him.  He had yet to see how the Moors were treated in Spain.  
            But Kheir ed-Din sensed, with the same acute perception of his eldest brother's heart he had experienced since childhood, that this was not the true problem.  "Come with me," Aroudj instructed, taking him into the captain's cabin.  
            "We are going to Tunis," he continued.  "It is different there."  
            "Isn't that the point?" asked the younger brother.  "To see the world."  
            Aroudj was silent for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed.  "That girl…"  
            "You must know how it is," said Kheir ed-Din quickly.  "To be lost in the eyes of the beloved, darker than the sky at midnight, and to know that you may never return…"  
            "Yes," his brother cut him off.  "I mean, no.  I don't share your liking of women."  
            "That's true," said Kheir, philosophically.  "You've never been a romantic."  
            Aroudj looked for a long time into Kheir's dark eyes.  "You'll learn," he said.  "Things are different in Tunis."

            But things were different long before they got to the African coast.  Kheir loved the adventure of his new life, the open sky, the immediate respect he received at his young age simply by being the brother of the famous, fearless corsair.  He loved being with his brother, watching the easy way he commanded the men, listening to him explain the ways of the sea, the way he smelled of spices, a dream of distant and exotic lands.  
            Kheir loved sleeping next to him every night, loved the warm protectiveness of his body.  Once, waking from a vision of beautiful women in a state of obvious excitement, Kheir found his brother awake, watching him.  It was a little embarrassing.  
            "When we get to Algiers, I'll take you to a brothel," Aroudj promised, to Kheir's surprise.  The next morning he was proud, puffed up.  His brother took him seriously, treated him like a man.  It was with this attitude that he met his first battle, later in the day, acquitting himself with courage.  He suffered a small cut on the thigh from a rapier; the Christians had fought bravely – or desperately, perhaps, as those who could not be ransomed were destined for a life of slavery.  
            "I shall attend to my brother," said the captain, even though the ship had a skillful medic.  But Aroudj proved himself not without knowledge of these things.  
            Kheir sat on their bed as Aroudj gently tugged off his boots and removed the light cotton trousers worn for working on the ships.  Aroudj cleaned and dressed the wound, his large, calloused fingers surprisingly light on his brother's soft skin.  The warmth of his hands, the obvious love, the surprising tenderness of the ruthless privateer combined to have a most unexpected effect on the young man, who found himself, to his shame, aroused.  
            His brother gazed deeply at him for a moment, searching for something in his expression.  Kheir was never certain whether he found or didn't find what he was looking for.  Nevertheless, he cupped his brother's chin into his hand and pulled him into a kiss.  
            Kheir felt like he was melting into a pool of fire.  "Things are different in Tunis," said Aroudj.  "Far away from our father, eh?"  
            Kheir stared at him with his huge, brown eyes wide open, begging, "Do that again," but his lips said nothing.  
            "I waited for you, forgoing even the sweet boys that can be had at any marketplace below the Casbah," said Aroudj.  "None of them were as lovely as you."  
            It was a hot Mediterranean night, but the lad shook as though he were in the snows of the Caucasus.  He felt his blood pounding in his ears, and feared he might faint.  Perhaps it was the wound, a bit of shock still left from the battle.  But the fight had also left him blissful, exultant, in a sort of ecstasy, knowing that the only free man is one who holds his own life as worthless.  
            And then he saw something in his brother's eyes he had never seen before – fear.  He knew, with the uncanny sense of his brother's heart he had experienced since childhood, that the kiss had taken more courage than a dozen bloody battles.  And with that knowledge came power.  
            He lay back on the bed, reclining, inviting.  He was a seducer – had, at his young age, already seduced a number of girls.  Apparently, he had seduced his brother without knowing it.  Now, he would do it of intent.

            How many battles they had fought after that first they had shared together; how many nights they had spent after that first in languid lovemaking!  Too many, perhaps.  Aroudj could never bring himself to his duty, and died, most tragically, with no heir, not even a daughter.  There was no one to continue his line.  
            And so Kheir ed-Din dyed his hair red, even though red hair was a mockery amongst his people – a man said to be conceived while his mother was bleeding, a man with too much taint of the woman in him.  And no one would accuse lusty Kheir of not doing his duty – even now, his strong, beautiful son, Hassan, waited for his father's passing to assume the mantle of Pasha of the Barbary Coast, king of the pirates.  
            Kheir was good at maintaining conventions.  He was not rash, an excellent strategist, a perfect monarch.  His lands had prospered.  He had lived long, "As Allah wills," he said, again maintaining the conventions.  In his heart, he was not in the least content with the will of Allah.  He had prayed to join his brother, and it had been denied him, every day for 28 years.  
            The angel took his hand, saying in a voice made of sunlight, "Look not upon thy brother's face.  He has denied God, turned to the devil."  
            But his brother's face was all that Kheir wanted to see.  Aroudj – for it was surely him, his compact, lively body, the strength of his brow, his red-gold beard, surely it was him even though he did not look quite as Kheir remembered – replied, "I am not for heaven.  I would settle the score with the Spaniards for the loss of my arm.  I would sail again the high seas and know treasure and conquest.  I would know not just this small sea, but all seas.  Come with me, my brother."  
            "You have governed your people well, Defender of the Faith," said the angel, addressing Kheir.  "Your brother has led you into sin before.  If you follow him, you will regret it."  
            The aged ruler, looking more and more each eternal moment like a boy of seventeen, pulled free of the angel's grasp.  "Not a day has passed since my brother's death when I did not inwardly weep and swear to Allah that I would give my head for one more happy year in his sweet presence."  
            "As thou wilt," said the angel, and all went dark.                    


End file.
